


Simply Daft

by ioanite



Category: Daft Punk, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Circuit Touching, Dancing, Groping, Music, Other, Prompt Fill, Tron Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes a little persuasion to get programs out on the dance floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simply Daft

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot BELIEVE I am the first one to be posting fic featuring the MP3's/Daft Punk. I swear I'm missing a tag. If so, can someone point me to the correct tags to use?
> 
> Anyway, this fic was written for the Tron Kink meme, for the prompt: 
> 
> "Anyone/Daft Punk
> 
> Right on the dance floor at the End of Line Club (for all to see? That's up to you).
> 
> Bonus points and an eternal massage if you include any/all (preferably all) of the following words strategically placed throughout the fic:
> 
> -Harder  
> -Better  
> -Faster  
> -Stronger"
> 
> And because I like a challenge, I stuck the entire song in there. See if you can spot them all...

They were staring at me again.

They had BEEN staring at me ever since I’d gone up to the bar and splayed out in the L position (Lanky, Lazy, Luxurious, as the barman called it). They’d seen me here plenty of times; you’d think the damn MP3’s would be used to the pose by now. At the very least, you’d think after cycles of working in the club that they’d be more subtle about their staring. You don’t have to be programmed to be a genius to know that those glances towards the bar weren’t just part of their job description.

Even as I watched, the tall one looked over in my direction again. Rolling my eyes, I pointed up at him. He gave a guilty start, realizing he’d been caught out. I just smiled and beckoned with a finger. *Come on down, little program, and let me show you what I’m capable of. You’ll think twice about ogling once I’m done with you.*

He hesitated, then jerked a thumb at his partner, who was clearly trying not to look at me. I nodded and beckoned again. I watched in amusement as they had a quick conference, glancing at me every few moments. I could see a huge question mark on the small ones helmet, showing skepticism. Wise boy. I just kept beckoning, interspersing with a “come down” gesture deliberately aimed at my crotch. Reel em in, throw em out, that was my motto.

Finally, they pressed a few buttons  and vanished from view. I remained in place, accepting another drink from the barman. Sipping, I let my eyes travel over the club, rolling my eyes at the programs who had already become drunk. One rowdy group was making moves on one of the girls who had come to serve them. I distinctly heard the phrase “Work it, baby!” over the pounding bass. I was satisfied to see one of her heels “accidentally” connect with a foot before she turned away to serve someone else.

There was an inquisitive chirp from behind me, and I turned back to the matter at hand; my admirers had arrived. “Hello there,” I said smoothly, setting down my drink, “Nice to see you down on the dance floor for once.”

The small one flashed a quick smiley face, while the other one scrolled a greeting across his visor. “Now then, just what about me do you boys find so fascinating?”

There was a hesitant pause, then the tall one scrolled,

“LEGS”.

I admit, I wasn’t expecting THAT response. “Legs?” I repeated, putting my thoughts of re-wiring their naughty little helmets aside for the moment, “What about my legs?”

“LONG LEGS”, he scrolled, gesturing, “DON’T DANCE”.

The small ones visor lit up with a face that looked decidedly put out. I shrugged. “I’m not the dancing type. I come here to drink, not to tire myself out with back-and-forth gyrations. I see no purpose to it.”

Now the tall one looked put out. “STIMULATING.”

“Ha!” I said, taking my drink, “Stimulating how?"

He held out a hand to me. “SHOW YOU. TEACH YOU.”

I considered. They were being pretty damn impertinent for MP3’s, but their music was good, and they knew their way around the beat. If anyone could introduce me to the supposed joy of dancing, it would be them. “All right then,” I said, sliding off the stool, “But it better be pretty damn fabulous, or I may do some damage to those lovely fingers of yours.”

I had the distinct impression that the tall one was smirking as he walked towards the dance floor, the small one right behind him. I followed, noting with some consternation that we were heading for the center of the floor. “Is that really necessary?” I asked, “after all, I’m just a beginner. I wouldn’t want people to see me land flat on my face. Where would my credibility go?”

“NEED ROOM,” came the answer, “TRUST US.”

“All right,” I said, putting just the right note of menace into my voice, “But if this doesn’t work out, you’ll be fearing for your helmets as well as your fingers.”

The small one pulled out a tiny device, like a switch, and pointed it up at the booth. Once he’d pressed a button, a different song came on, something low and pulsing. “FOLLOW MY LEAD.” said the tall one, and suddenly he was behind me, his fingers curled lightly around my waist.  “Hey now!” I yelped, “I said you could DANCE with me, not…”

The words died in my throat as the beat kicked into a higher gear, and his fingers started tapping a drumbeat against my hips. There was something…electric about it. He pulled me towards him, pressing up right against me, rolling in time to the music. I responded instinctively, rolling with him, electricity rolling up my back. “Dude, you’re not interfacing with me, are you? Because if you are, that’s _totally_ unfair.”

He responded by gently rolling a finger straight down my back, proving that he hadn’t stuck anything anywhere. I made a noise low in my throat at the touch. There was a musical purr in response, and I knew, just KNEW, he was laughing at me. “Watch it, wonder hands,” I said, “you’re not out of the outlands just yet. Let’s see what else you have to offer.”

He must have beckoned to his partner, because suddenly the other one was pressed up against my front, rubbing himself up and down , his hands flat on my shoulders to give him some purchase. With rolling behind me, and rubbing in front of me, I had to admit it; this was getting *quite* stimulating.

The tall one pulled away, removing his fingers from my waist. Too proud to demand he return them, I waited for the next surprise. He didn’t disappoint.

“Hey!” I said, as his fingers came to rest on my rear, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

He ignored me, tracing it with two fingers, then tapping on it. “It’s plenty fresh,” I assured him, “but don’t even think about…”

Too late; he squeezed my ass like a lightcycle joystick. “NO! BAD PROGRAM!” I yelled.

He crooned in my ear before resuming the tapping on my butt, fingers dancing lightly over it, lingering in places lit up by my uniform. I started wiggling it furiously, trying to dislodge those irritating and damn *persistent* fingers.

Then the small ones hands closed around my waist, starting to roll me around once more. I looked him in the helmet, and he flashed another smiley and a quick scroll of “FOLLOW.” I swatted his hands away and began rolling of my own accord; anything to get him to stop. That must have satisfied the tall one, because he ground up against me once more, his fingers sliding down my thighs, tracing the contours of my uniform. “Nnng…that’s better,” I said, “Don’t push it.”

The small one was standing away from us now, looking awkward. I felt sorry for him, so I beckoned over with a finger. “Maybe you boys should change places. Your ‘hands-on’ approach may be better from the back.”

They obeyed, linking fingers and spinning around me, keeping in my orbit. Then the small one was behind me, and the tall one in front of me, and then their hands were on me and oh YES…

The small one’s hands rested firmly on my hips, pulling me towards him, forcing me to collide with him before releasing me and starting over. He was tougher than the other one, his body harder; when I slammed into him, my body didn’t recoil so much as ricochet. Not that I noticed, because the tall one was brushing his fingers all over me again, and now, it was in *much* more sensitive areas. He pressed in close, his fingers exploring my neck, my chest, my sides, never lingering, just caressing. I purred again.

The music had changed again, though the beat remained. Now it was faster, more urgent, more needy. The two MP3’s moved accordingly, the tugging on my hips becoming more insistent, the fingers dancing over my chest. I was starting to feel a warmth in my circuits that had nothing to do with exertion. “Hey!” I shouted over the music, “Got any other tricks?”

Good thing I asked, because the tall one was up against me once more, my face pressed squarely into his chest. His hands intertwined with his partner’s, and he started pushing me towards him. I found myself caught in a intimate tug-of-war, bouncing between the two of them. After a few microbits of this, I couldn’t tell where I ended and they began. They were beeping at each other, carrying on a conversation as if I wasn’t there. I was feeling decidedly hot now, and I didn’t much like being ignored. So I wound my fingers in between theirs. “Ahem. Shall we concentrate on the task at hand?”

They responded by locking their other hands *under* my body, the ridges of their gloves bumping over extremely sensitive areas as they rolled me around. Good User, the heat was getting stronger, and stronger, and stronger…

“101100111XXX101110101010011XXX110100101011!!!” blared across the tall one’s screen, yanking me against him once more. The heat migrated up along my spine, and my circuits fused. I started panting, pawing desperately at his chest, babbling incoherently.

“Yes, yes…oh, User, yes…make it rise, make it rise, do it, doitdomedomedome…”

They responded, maddeningly, by removing their hands, just when I needed them more than ever. “DANCE” commanded the tall one, stepping away from me.

I had a handle on the beat now, and I started rolling my hips, stepping from side to side, sliding my hands over and around my body, a pale imitation of what they’d been doing to me. Two could play at this game; I could play as dirty as them. I sauntered up to the small one, entwining one of those ‘LONG LEGS’ around his, rubbing, no, *grinding* against him, letting my fingers keep the beat on his helmet. He squeaked, unsure what to do about this turn of events. I lowered my voice, leaning in so he could hear me loud and clear.

“You know you like this. You know you’ll remember this for more than an hour after I’m done. Don’t try to deny it, you filthy minded little MP3, you’ve been begging for this all evening. It’s why you came over to me, isn’t it?”

A “YES” stuttered across his screen, blippy and erratic. Good. I had him right where I wanted him. “It’s what makes us different from the others, isn’t it? We know *exactly* what the music does to us…and we enjoy it. The others, they just do this to stimulate each other. Only we know what part the music plays.”

He had lost the ability to type coherently, apparently, because he just flashed multicolored X’s across his visor. I rubbed against him again, and was rewarded by the sight of sparks flying from his helmet. Satisfied, I unwound myself and turned to the other one. “Right then, you’ve seen me dance. Now rev me like a lightcycle.”

And then his fingers were on me again, stroking my legs, tracing the lines of my suit, one finger making a detour into the forbidden zone, brushing and nudging against the fabric. The heat started rising again, ever higher, ever faster, until at last…

“NnnnGAAAHH!” I cried, fireworks going off before my eyes, exploding inside me. My legs turned to water, and I slumped down, almost hitting the floor if it weren’t for the MP3, who caught me and dragged me to my old seat. It took a few microcycles for my eyes to clear, and when I did, the two were standing in front of me, looking as dazed as I felt. “Well then,” I said, a touch of my old sarcasm returning, “Did you get what you wanted out of that?”

“STIMULATED?” queried the tall one.

“Yes, very,” I responded, “But I think it only works with the right…partners. So unless you’re willing to take a break from the booth every so often, you won’t be seeing these long legs on the dance floor ever again.”

Their body language suggested that they would seriously consider that. Then the small one turned to go back to the booth. “Typical, they don’t even stick around for a drink afterwards.” I said, shaking my head.

The tall one’s visor flashed. “OUR WORK IS NEVER OVER.” scrolled playfully across the screen, and he too moved away.

I crossed my legs, reclining on the stool, watching them go, noting a flash of light from the upstairs office. Castor had probably videotaped the entire thing, the rat. Oh well, as long as he kept that in his ‘Private’ files, I wouldn’t have to have it out with him.

Then again, maybe he’d consider making me a copy…


End file.
